From The Moment I Wake Up
by Natalia173
Summary: SEASON TWO FINALE SPOILER: Mary wakes up and there's someone sitting by her bed, just not the person she expects.
1. Chapter 1

This story is actually finished but my beta actually is going over the last few chapters of it. The updates should be pretty regular because I intended it to be a one shot but it just got to be too long (37 pages in word), so I'm splitting it up a bit. Enjoy the Mary Marshall goodness.

Disclaimer: I don't own In Plain Sight, I just use the characters to further the enjoyment of all.

**ooOOoo**

Mary was awake but kept her eyes closed. Everything was a little fuzzy and she wanted to make sure she wasn't going to have any surprises when she opened her eyes. She tried to remember everything that had happened: protecting her witness because of her insistence to move into that god awful neighborhood. The gangster on the front step, trying to gain admittance to the house. Calling Dershowitz; what a mistake that had been. She didn't need to be completely coherent to know that he hadn't done much. But, then again, maybe she wouldn't be here at all if not for him. She didn't really know. The details were vague past a certain point. All she remembered was pulling her gun and then nothing really.

Opening her eyes slowly, Mary took a quick look around the room. She saw the obligatory blue curtains that matched that standard blue paint that hospitals seemed to love so. Blue tiles were on the floor and bathroom walls; blue vinyl chairs were lined up against the wall with the window. The shelves by her bed were blue and the florescent lights giving off a hint of blue. Even her ridiculous gown was blue, not to mention unflattering. She was grateful for the blue blankets that were covering her from the waist down.

There were lots of things beeping, but she knew that she would have more problems if they stopped. Just because they were important, didn't mean that they weren't annoying. She had a feeling that once she was less tired she needed to make a big deal out of it. That was now on her list of things to do: become coherent, complain about the noise.

It was obvious that there had to have been shots fired and she was on the receiving end of one of the shots. She didn't know how severe the damage was, but if the pain in her gut every time she moved was any indication, she was pretty sure that it was bad. Raph was probably freaking out. He didn't handle the pressures of her job well when she wasn't in any danger.

It suddenly occurred to her that all of her family must be worried sick about her. She hoped that her mother hadn't started drinking again because of this. Wouldn't that have been just the icing on the cake to this whole predicament? She gets shot and Jinx has a relapse.

Her thoughts wandered to Raph and she looked for him. Instead of seeing him, her eyes fell on Marshall, asleep, in a hard hospital chair next to her bed. The sight surprised her. She figured he'd be working, not sitting here guarding her bed.

She saw him stir and shut her eyes again, not wanting to let on that she had woken up. She didn't know how long she had been out but it was long enough that soon people were going to come in and start gushing over the fact that she was awake. She wasn't ready to actually deal with people yet.

"I know you're awake." In fact, he'd known for sometime that she was waking up but he kept the facts to himself. She didn't need to hear his random spouting of facts when she might not even know who he was.

She opened one eye and saw Marshall looking at her. Saw him trying to keep a placid face and wondered who he was trying to fool. After all the years that they had spent together, she knew when Marshall had been stretched to his limits. In all the time she'd known him, she'd never seen him this bad. It made her all the more curious as to how long she'd been asleep.

"How do you know shit like that?" Mary made a move to sit up a little and then decided against it; it was too painful. She noted that Marshall moved towards her as if to help and had stopped. He knew her too well sometimes. Even now he recognized her need to be self-sufficient.

"How do you manage to be sarcastic less than a minute after coming out of a coma?" he retorted. When she just glared at him he gave her a real answer. "Your heart beat speeds up when you're awake."

"You could have just said that to begin with," she mumbled.

"You could let me help you sit up instead of laying there suffering."

"Damn it. Fine, you win." She held out her hand to him and he stood up, supporting her shoulders and helping her sit up in her bed. He let her go the second she was settled and sat back down in his seat. "So are you going to tell me what happened?"

"How much do you remember?" The doctor had told Marshall not to push her into anything. There was a chance that Mary was going to forget a lot. No one could determine how much damage had been done to her brain when she stopped breathing.

"I remember Francesca being an idiot and moving herself to that shitty neighborhood," Mary mumbled more to herself than Marshall.

"Is that it?"

"No, I remember pulling my gun. That's where it all goes dark. Marshall, will you please just tell me what the hell happened?"

Marshall shook his head, partly in disbelief and partly in relief. Nothing was wrong with Mary's brain. At least, nothing more than the normal things that were out-of-whack in Mary's head. "You were shot."

"Well, obviously. I was hoping for a little more detail than that."

"So pushy. Give me more than five seconds to get the words out of my mouth." His answer was an annoyed glare. He probably shouldn't be pushing her buttons. She needed to relax and antagonizing her wasn't the way to make sure she relaxed. "Dershowitz called 911 and they rushed you to the hospital. You stopped breathing and your heart stopped but they restarted it. They put you in surgery once you were stable enough to do so and you've been in a coma for two and a half weeks. You've been in and out the past couple of days, waking up for a few minutes at a time, one time for a whole half hour, though you didn't say anything. You just stared at us all blankly."

"Two and a half weeks? That long? Damn. I don't remember waking up at all until now."

"We've all been a little worried about you."

Mary looked at him and saw when he said "we" he really meant "I", though she was sure he wasn't the only one who was worried. "You know me. I always like to be the center of attention."

"No you don't. You hate it."

"Yeah, well, all that repressed envy of the girls who _were_ the center of attention. I had to get it out somehow."

"Next time could you try something a little less dangerous? I think you might have given me a gray hair."

"Well, then, my life is complete."

Marshall rolled his eyes to hide how much her words had affected him. Her life had very nearly been over and he hadn't handled it well. All too quickly he found out what his life would be like without Mary around and he hadn't liked it for a second.

"Do you want me to call everyone?"

"As in, 'walk into the hall because they're all waiting there' call or 'pick up your phone and they have to drive here' call?"

"Drive here call."

She frowned in that way that indicated whatever she was about to say wasn't meant to be taken seriously. "Really? They're not all waiting every second of the day and watching me sleep? I'm a little disappointed. What does a girl have to do to get people waiting by her bedside with grief?"

Marshall had to stop himself from saying 'be your partner.' He didn't want her to know just how long he had been at this hospital doing that very thing. Everyone else had gone back to their lives and continued on as much as they could, though visits were frequent and long.

"I'm a little surprised that Raph isn't here. He's the wait-by-your-bedside type."

"Raph is working. He's been working a lot, actually." Marshall waved his hand like it was no big deal, like they all hadn't had the hardest time pretending that life was fine. Marshall didn't even bother to pretend; he'd been on leave since she'd been shot. After trying to interrogate a witness that first night, everyone had decided that he would be better off taking some time for himself.

"Shouldn't you be at work? I mean it's," she looked at the wall clock across from her. "Three PM. What the hell are you doing here?"

Marshall didn't know what to say to her. How did you tell your partner that you hadn't left since they had been shot other than to change your clothes? How did you tactfully mention that you hadn't slept in a real bed for almost three weeks and that it didn't matter because you didn't sleep much these days anyways? Every time he closed his eyes, Mary pale and not breathing on a gurney came to mind, forcing his eyes open again. "I had some time off that I'm using." It wasn't the total truth but he figured it was a better explanation than the alternative: he couldn't cope. They were in a line of work where you had to learn to cope, to deal and to not let it affect your work. Marshall had quickly realized that there was a limit and Mary was his.

Mary wasn't fooled. She thought about commenting on it but felt that maybe right now wasn't the time. She had never seen him like this in all her life and she wasn't sure if she should be flattered or scared. Perhaps the answer was a little of both.

"You should go call everyone. I mean, if I'm going to pretend that waking up is a big deal in everyone's book I need them here to fuel my sickness."

"You sure you don't want more time to build up to them coming?"

"No, I'll take a nap before they get here. Go." Marshall got up to leave but she stopped him. "And Marshall?"

He looked at her, his eyebrows raised slightly in question.

"Go home. Take a shower. Sleep in a real bed. I'm going to be up for awhile now. Everyone else can take over 'Mary watch.'"

He just smiled at her. Sometimes he was glad that he didn't have to explain.

**ooOOoo**

"Dershowitz, why won't you tell me about the perp who tried to kill me?"

"Because it's irrelevant information right now. When you have to testify against him, then I'll tell you. Right now all you need to do is concentrate on getting better."

"Why does everyone keep saying that to me?" Mary complained. "Like it takes a supreme mental effort to lay here and let the hole in my abdomen heal."

"It's an expression, Mary, let it go," Brandi said to her. Her hand was laced with Peter's, squeezing it. The relief that had hit her when Marshall called was the most wonderful feeling she had ever had. Life had been a mess since Mary had gotten shot. Jinx almost started drinking again, something that Brandi had a hard time dealing with by herself. She couldn't let Mary wake to an alcoholic mother, though, so she kept Jinx in check. Peter had been supportive through everything and Brandi was once again thankful for his presence.

"Fine, but if one more person says to concentrate on getting better, I'm going to punch them."

Mary sat and endured her family and friends, knowing that the whole ordeal had probably been taxing on them. Stan, though he showed up, didn't say much. Everyone acted like if they even looked at her the wrong way she would suddenly slip back into oblivion. Mary, though tired, had no such concerns. She was awake and felt better than she had an hour ago. Of course the refresher of morphine could have been a big factor in that, but she decided that she liked the idea that things were improving.

The morphine was also making her eyes droop but she fought against it. Her body had slept enough, almost three weeks in fact, though she doubted that being in a coma had the same rejuvenate effects as sleeping. The sensation of having missed such a large chunk of her life was disconcerting and she just wanted the room cleared. She also couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Raph wasn't around. He had claimed that he couldn't get out of work and that he would come soon. The excuse that he didn't think she was going to wake up when she did was a weak one. She had only been out of it a few weeks and, while it was probably pretty scary, she thought it was a little too soon to be writing her off as a vegetable.

"Hey, Mary, how are you feeling?"

Mary looked up, unaware that she had zoned out so thoroughly. Usually she knew exactly what was going on around here but the drugs combined with her tired state made her completely miss the fact that Marshall was talking to her or even the fact that he had returned. She saw him now, his face close, worry lines creasing his forehead.

"I'm just tired. Who knew that all I had to do to become a junkie was get shot? Would have done it years ago had I known." The laughter that came from her family was awkward and stilted. They didn't understand how she was making jokes so easily.

"Why don't we all clear out of here?" Stan suggested. The company just agreed and said their goodbyes to Mary. Everyone but Marshall had exited the room.

"Marshall, you coming?" Stan asked.

"Leave him, Stan," Mary said. "He likes being the martyr." Stan left and Mary looked at her partner. Though he had taken her advice about the shower, she knew that he hadn't taken her advice about getting some sleep. "Christ, you really are a martyr, aren't you?"

"Just concerned," he answered, sitting down in the chair he had been occupying for weeks. "Besides, a martyr is traditionally someone who dies for a cause. No one died and there's no cause here so really, no martyrdom is involved. However, its original definition was someone who bore witness, though I don't think that definition really applies here, either."

"Leave it to you to know the definition of a martyr." She noticed that her words were a lot more slurred than they had been previously. The drugs were really starting to work themselves into her system.

"Get some sleep, Mary."

Mary was going to say something else to him but finally her eyelids won over her willpower and she fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own In Plain Sight; I simply use the characters to further the enjoyment of all.

**ooOOoo**

Marshall got up and got coffee and then talked to the doctor. Mary had only been awake for about an hour but had been significantly more coherent this time. She had slept in between the time that he had called her family and even a good hour after they had gotten there. When she had woken up, she was a lucid as she had been when she had woken up around him.

"Is she going to stay like this?" he had asked of her physician.

"Coma patients are hard to predict, but usually when they come out of it, they don't slip back in. It's actually surprising that she came out of it with so much of her own personality and such high responsiveness. Usually there are more complications. It's not completely unheard of, however," the doctor responded.

"Why does she keep falling back asleep?"

"That's normal for coma patients. They don't just magically wake up and are fine. They come in and out of it a lot until finally their brain builds up enough strength to keep them conscious for the normal span of time once again."

Marshall thanked the doctor and took up his usual post beside her bed. She didn't wake for the remainder of the day but he hadn't expected her to. She had been awake twice today, both times for long periods. It seemed to be a lot of stress on her recuperating body. Two days he stuck around and finally, her eyes opened once again.

"Marshall, what are you still doing here?"

"Making sure that no one steals your Jell-O."

"They're feeding me through a tube. I don't get Jell-O."

"Then I'm here to make a fuss about the indignity that you didn't get any."

"Marshall, please go home."

"You don't want me here?" His face dropped slightly. If she hadn't known him for so long she probably would have never noticed. That guilt part of her kicked in. He was just worried about her.

"I want you to go and be a normal person. I'm going to be fine. While I appreciate the fact that you're spending every waking moment with me, it's really no longer necessary. Go to work or something."

"Work's boring without out you around to fight with."

She knew that he had said it as a joke but that didn't stop the fact that her heart warmed a little at the comment. She knew that not having a partner there could get a little disruptive but it was different with Marshall. It seemed to her that he felt work just wasn't _worth it_ without her around.

"So when is everyone coming back?"

"They're going to let you be for awhile. Having everyone here is a little overwhelming for you. Raph will be here tomorrow though."

"My mother must be just ecstatic about that," she mumbled. "Was Raph freaking out because he wasn't here when I woke up?" Mary loved Raph but sometimes he got a little overbearing. She knew that was just his nature but a part of her was quietly glad that he hadn't been around when she had been coherent for the first time.

"Not exactly," Marshall responded. Mary looked at him, seeing him fidget slightly under her gaze.

"Out with it, Marshall."

"I don't want to say anything. Talk to Raph when he gets here."

"Or you could tell me now and I won't have to beat it out of you," she threatened as she leaned back on the pillows. She was already starting to feel tired.

"You don't look like you could beat a confession out of a fly."

"I'll use my impressive brain power to break you."

Marshall raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, for the love of God, will you just tell me whatever it is that you don't want to tell me? I don't have enough energy for this bullshit."

Marshall stared her down for a few moments before giving in. There was a part of him that secretly wanted to tell her anyways, just to see how she would react. "Raph hasn't been to see you since the night that it happened."

"He… really? That seems… unlike him." Mary's brow knitted, not sure if she was relieved, upset or just plain confused. Usually she could predict Raph's behavior to the tee and him not coming to see her had never crossed her mind. It was completely out of character for the man she was engaged to. "At least someone had the sense not to wait by my bed every second, watching me sleep." To be frank, the whole situation confused her. It was like someone had turned the world on its head and now "opposite day" had become a national, daily holiday.

She thought Marshall would have gone back to work, visiting only when he could. After all, with both of them now out, who was working their cases? That hadn't happened though. He had waited by her bed every second, barely leaving even when she told him to, while Raph was no where to be found, the man who usually smothered her with his emotions.

"We drew straws," Marshall informed her, leaning back into his chair. "I lost."

Mary threw a pillow, which he promptly deflected. She wasn't really trying to hit him and they both knew it. Not that a pillow would have done any damage. Her face grew serious as her mind once again returned to what Marshall had told her. It was so unlike Raph to be scarce.

"How has he been taking it?" she asked her partner. Marshall shrugged, not really knowing what to tell her. He didn't know Raph as well as Mary did so he didn't know if that behavior was normal.

"Not well, from what I can see. If I hadn't already known it, I would have never guessed he was your fiancé. He hasn't been to see you, hasn't talked to anyone as far as I can tell. Brandi can barely get him to answer his phone." He could see that it was making Mary upset, though that was only because he knew her so well. She hid it, just like she had always done. He wished he could keep it from her, but that wasn't Mary's nature. She always had to know things and, at the end of the day, it was just better to tell her. She handled her trials better that way.

"So he's basically falling apart." She was quiet for a moment and then, "Damn it! I don't have the energy to put up with his emotional drama."

"Who said you had to? You take care of everyone all the time. Let Raph take care of Raph," Marshall suggested. He saw how her family's problems caused her stress and didn't want her to have to handle it. The last thing she needed was stress. Marshall had been handling her family since she had been hurt and, while he didn't have the experience at it that Mary did, he still thought that he was managing well.

"Now if only I had thought of that years ago. I could have saved myself a whole lot of trouble," she answered sarcastically. Marshall saw her eyes drooping closed and Mary struggle to keep them open, wanting to figure out what to do about Raph. Marshall was the easiest person to talk to and she usually got her best ideas when bouncing them off him.

"Go to sleep, Mary. You can think about it when you wake up."

"God damn drugs."

**ooOOoo**

Raph walked into the room quietly, praying that she still slept. The conversation was going to be long and tedious and he wasn't even sure he wanted to have it now. In fact, if he could've avoided her until she got out, he would have, but he knew that wouldn't be the case. He also knew that Marshall had probably already spilled the beans about his behavior. If he knew anything about Mary, she wouldn't let him go until she found out why he had been acting so strangely.

"Will you just get in here already? It's really hard pretending to be asleep for this long."

The voice surprised him and he cursed silently under his breath. He should have known she'd be awake. She put on a good façade though. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even despite already telling him that she was awake. She had actually been dozing, trying to keep herself awake for his visit. When he had opened the door it woke her again. She didn't want him to leave without figuring out what was wrong. Marshall had vacated her room for awhile, giving the couple some privacy. Raph sat down in the chair that Mary's partner had inhabited previously.

"So are you going to come right out and tell me what's wrong or am I going to have to go fishing?" she asked him, finally opening her eyes and turning her head to look at him.

"Mary," he said, "I'm not sure that we should talk about this right now."

"Fishing it is."

"It's not that I want you to have to guess. I just think that it would be better if we waited until you were better." Mary's emotions had always been difficult to decipher and he didn't know how she would deal with this after everything she'd already been through.

"Damn it, Raph, will you just tell me already. It's like ripping off a band aid; the quicker the better." She didn't have the energy for this and it was already showing in just the few short minutes that he had been in her room. Raph looked at her for a minute before deciding that trying to keep it from her was just going to make the situation that much more difficult.

"I thought about a lot over the past few weeks. I hate your job. I mean, I hated your job before but it's even worse now. You can't tell me anything about it and I am worried about you every time that you are not at home," Raph confessed to her.

"What exactly do you want me to do about that, Raph? Wave my magical wand that gets me a different job? This is what I do and, what's more, it's what I love." They'd had the conversation a million times before and Mary wasn't totally sure why he was bringing it up now.

"I know that. You also love me." They sat for a minute, looking at each other. Raph was hoping that she would figure it out, but she just sat there in confusion. He was sitting there telling her that he knew she loved him and her job.

She realized that he wasn't telling her what she loved, he was asking her which one she loved more. "Jesus, Raph, you're doing this to me _now_?"

"Well, as usual, you refused to let me do it later. It always was your way or no way, Mary."

"It's what endears everyone to me so," she mumbled. He was forcing a decision out of her. She had to pick him or her job. Looking at him, she wished it were a difficult choice. "My job is my sanity," she explained to him. "It's the only thing that remains constant and that I can always count on. People aren't like that. They're… unpredictable and messy. I need something stable in my life and I'm just not sure you're, _we're_, stable enough to replace my job."

She hoped that she had been nice about it. How do you gently tell a guy that you chose your job over him? Probably the same way that same guy tells you to pick one. She saw that he was hurt, that he had honestly thought that she would pick him and she hated seeing him like that. She loved Raph but not enough to change everything that made her Mary. Being a Marshal was as much a part of her as her blonde hair or her hazel eyes.

Raph just nodded at her, not sure where to proceed from there. He had prepared himself for the fact that she might pick her job over him. Now that she actually had, it was a lot more difficult to deal with that he had expected.

"So where do we go from here?" he asked.

"You go back to my house, move your things back to your own apartment and… we go our separate ways in life." It was like she was explaining things to a child.

"That's it?"

"What else do you expect? You asked me to choose. I did and this is what results from it. If you can't handle my job that's fine but don't expect a relationship now that I've made my decision. Separation will be better for the both of us, Raph."

"So… I should probably go," he said slowly.

"I think that it would be best."

Raph kissed her cheek softly and Mary watched him recede until the door cut off all views of him. She still didn't tear her eyes away despite not being able to see him any longer.

Marshall came in and saw her sitting there, vacant look on her face but even then Mary didn't remove her eyes from the door. "Mary?"

Mary blinked, her eyes focusing once again on the room in front of her. She looked at Marshall who looked worried. She couldn't figure out why. After being shot, a little thing like ending a relationship shouldn't worry him. Then it occurred to her that he probably didn't know what had just happened and there was something else that was causing the look of concern that was on his face. "What?"

"Are you alright? You look… upset." Marshall was putting it lightly but he didn't want to alarm her. He didn't know what Raph had said to her but, by the look that was on Mary's face, Marshall knew it couldn't be good. If it had been anyone else he would have said they were about to cry but, well, it was Mary. She just looked hurt but wasn't sure what to do with the emotion.

"I'm fine," she answered him. "Just the usual bullshit of my life."

"What happened?"

"He asked me to chose, to decide between him and my job."

Marshall caught on quickly and his fist tightened in anger. How dare he put this decision on her now, or ever for that matter? He couldn't believe that Raph would make her decide between his love and the love of her job. What was worse was that Marshall wasn't completely sure which she had chosen.

"Mary, you can't leave the Marshal Service. You just… can't." Marshall forced himself to relax, to not show how angry or hurt he would be if she decided to go with Raph and quit her job. "You love your job and you would never be happy anywhere else."

"Calm, down. Jeez, Marshall, do you really think I would leave?"

"I wasn't sure. You love Raph."

"Yeah, but not enough to leave my job for him. If he can't deal with me being a Marshal then he certainly isn't the guy for me." She placed her hand over Marshall's and it clenched tightly in anger. She could understand his anger. When she thought that he was leaving, she was furious. "I'm not leaving WITSEC. I'm leaving Raph. Well, left Raph, I guess. I already told him to clear his things out of my house."

"So… you're not leaving then?" Marshall felt himself calming at her words. Mary was the only friend that he had and he wasn't sure he could handle the Marshal Service without her.

"No, I'm not leaving. Did you really think that I would leave my job for a _guy_?"

"What if I left WITSEC?" he asked, his voice playful but part of him genuinely curious.

"You leaving is a different story. They'd never be able to find another partner that would put up with me. I'd be forced to leave," she told him with a harsh laugh.

Marshall chuckled along with her, but they both knew it wasn't entirely untrue. Mary was hard to deal with and he just happened to work well with her. He wasn't sure that anyone else would be able to deal with her personality. Most people didn't see Mary when they met her. All they saw was a rude, hard-ass Marshal who seemed to hate the world. Marshall had gotten past that easily enough and found that, while she may be pig-headed, it was only because she cared so fiercely about things. He knew that she had this need to protect everyone she cared about. He figured that's why she got into WITSEC to begin with: a job where she did nothing but protect people. "You sure you're alright? I mean, you did just call it off with your fiancé," he asked delicately. He also knew Mary's aversion to talking about anything that even remotely had to deal with her emotions.

"It's just a relationship, Marshall. One that, for some time now, I thought wasn't going to last. Let's not talk about it. Let's talk about when they're finally going to let me out of this hell hole."

"This hell hole saved your life," Marshall reminded her. "In fact, they save thousands of lives a day and the percentage of you surviving any given ailment increases 50% upon entry into a hospital. I don't understand people's dislike of hospitals."

"I bet it's a direct result of the food," Mary mumbled as she picked at the remains of her dinner. She hadn't been able to stomach any of it and not just because she had been shot through the stomach. Being shot was almost preferable to the food that was on her plate.

"Haven't you asked your doctor about it?"

"He's keeps avoiding the question like he wants to hold me hostage here as long as possible," she complained.

"He must know you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she sneered at her partner.

"That the second you get home you'll be trying to do a ton of things you're not supposed to instead of just relaxing and letting yourself recover."

Mary had a hard time arguing with him about that one. She always tried to do things before she should but even now she could tell it would be a little while before she'd be able to accomplish anything. However, it had been about three weeks since she had been shot and, even though she'd only been awake for five days, she was tired of looking at the same old walls. She also knew that Marshall wouldn't set foot back at work until she was out of the hospital. She had a sinking feeling he wouldn't return until she got back on her feet, but she hoped that if the doctor released her then she could convince him to go back to his job. Stan had to be drowning in work by now and she didn't want Marshall getting fired because of her.

"Do you think you could convince him to let me go?"

"No."

"Please, Marshall. You're a lot better at that whole bargaining thing and relating to people and-"

"Talking civilly to them and not like they're trained monkeys," Marshall interjected.

"Well, yeah, there is that part."

They both sat and stared at each other for a moment, one trying to get the other to concede. Finally Marshall sighed and threw his hands up.

"Fine, I'll go talk to him, but only under one condition."

"What?"

"That you follow every one of his instructions. That means no stress, no job, no heaving lifting, no heavy breathing if that's what he tells you to do."

Mary stared at him a minute and quickly realized that this was one argument she wouldn't win. Marshall wanted her to recover and wasn't taking any chances. She agreed, thinking that at the very least going home would be a change of scenery.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own In Plain Sight, I simply use the characters to further the enjoyment of all.

**ooOOoo**

A week later she was released from the hospital under the condition that she rest and appear to all her follow up appointments along with her physical therapy sessions. She grudgingly agreed, knowing that Marshall would force her to go anyways. Marshall helped her into the car, slowly. After three weeks in bed it was difficult to walk, but the past week she had been getting physical therapy and it had been helping. She could walk alone now but not for extended periods of time. Sitting down and getting up was also still painful, but she grasped Marshall's hand for support as she slid into the black SUV.

Mary watched him as he drove, all his concentration on the road. He was attempting not to fuss over her and so his eyes stayed glued to the pavement before him.

"Marshall, when are you going back to work?" Mary blurted out and then cursed internally at her usual lack of delicacy. Marshall looked at her surprised.

"What does it matter?" he retorted.

"Because you can't stay out of work much longer. You must be straining your supply of days off as it is." She had to make him realize how impractical it all was.

"You were hurt."

"And now I'm better," she insisted. Marshall sighed, wondering if he could make her understand, if he even _wanted_ her to understand.

"The human body has an amazing ability to recover. For example, about four weeks after a gunshot wound, you're already returning home."

"Marshall, what the hell are you rambling about?"

"Despite the body's ability to recover physically, mentally it could take years to recover from the same wound and that's a statistic that doesn't just apply to the person wounded."

She sighed and leaned back in her seat. She got the message and understood where he was coming from. When he had been shot, she was a mess and his injury had been pretty minor, considering. Had it not been for the fact that they had to hide out for hours, there would have been no question of his survival. She wasn't sure how she would have handled him being shot as severely as she.

"Avoiding the world and your responsibilities isn't the way to deal with a situation. Destroying your career because I got shot isn't healthy and if you don't go back to work I'm going to kick your ass. I'm fine, Marshall; stop playing the martyr."

Marshall sighed, knowing that she was probably right. He was hiding from the world, but when she was in the hospital it had just been so hard to leave her. All he could do was watch over her unconscious state and pray daily that she woke up. He could hardly believe it when she did and had stayed just to make sure that it was true, that she was really going to recover from this.

But she was going home now. The doctors had released her home as long as she took it easy and he could tell she was getting annoyed by his presence. Maybe it wasn't that. She might actually be genuinely concerned for his career. He sighed in resignation.

"I'll go back to work on Monday, but I'm not going to stop coming to see you."

Mary knew she had won at least half the battle and, to be honest, she didn't want him to stop coming to see her. She just wanted him to return to his own life. Soon enough she'd be back on her feet and life would once again be what it had been before her unfortunate incident.

"Well, duh. I mean, someone is going to have to keep me from killing my mother and Brandi now that Raph is gone." There was a short burst of silence as she mentioned his name. She hadn't talked to Marshall about it and Marshall hadn't asked. Mary wasn't the type of person you asked that sort of thing. He just figured that when she wanted to deal with it, she would.

"As long as I have a purpose in life. Did you know that most families actually-"

"No, and nor do I want to. Did you know the first thing you spouted at me when I woke up was some random ass fact?"

Actually, the first thing he had said to her was that everyone was there and loved her when, in actuality, he was the only one who had been there at the time. She hadn't remembered this, hadn't even remembered waking up. Normal, he was told, but that didn't stop him from worrying. She hadn't remembered anything from the first two or three times she had woken up.

"Not true," he countered. "First I informed you that you were awake. Then I told you about your heart-rate when you're awake. In fact, I never even went into detail about your resting heart-rate compared to-"

"Marshall," she interrupted before he could get too far into it. She wondered if he knew how much she didn't care and then figured that was probably why he did it. Anything to annoy her. It was nice to know that nothing had changed while she had been in the hospital.

He stopped, smirk on his face. She hit him but it caused her more pain than it did him. He just chuckled as she winced. She was fairly certain he barely even felt it.

"I hate you," she muttered.

"Except for you really love me. I get it though. Love and hate actually walk a fine line and many professionals say that-"

"Christ, Marshall! Don't you ever shut up?" she complained. He just continued to give her that same amused smile that she so often saw plastered on his face when he managed to annoy her.

"Only when people ask politely," he informed her, something they both knew she had never done, nor ever would. At least, not to Marshall. She was about to come up with a witty retort but the drugs that she had been fighting were working their way into her system. She didn't have the energy to come up with anything and by the time they reached her house she had fallen asleep.

Marshall tried waking her, but Mary, surprisingly, was very susceptible to the drugs that she was on. They knocked her out pretty easily and there was little that could wake her. He knew that leaving her in the car wasn't an option so he did the only other thing he could think of. He lifted her into his arms, carried her into the house and prayed to God that she didn't wake up and kill him.

**ooOOoo**

"Mary, get back on that couch," Marshall called from over his shoulder. Mary scowled but kept her feet firmly planted on the ground in defiance. However, she resisted standing up; she didn't want to push Marshall too far.

"I only want to get a drink," she argued.

"I'll get it for you when I'm done here," he said, still not turning to face her. "Stop being so impatient."

Mary leaned back on the couch, annoyed. It had been two weeks since she had returned from the hospital and, finally, her doctor had cleared her for work. She was going back on Monday, three days from now. All she had to do was get through another weekend with Führer Marshall. He had finally gone back to work when she had gotten home from the hospital but not before threatening her family to take the best of care of her. She wasn't sure what Marshall had said to Jinx and Brandi but she hadn't heard a single thing out of them since she had come home and they had been nothing but compliant. Marshall had even gotten Dershowitz to drive a patrol car past her house about twice a day. Somehow, Mary didn't think that had taken much convincing.

Marshall had stopped by everyday after work. He was worried about her and trusted her family only so far when it came to her care. He had to admit he felt a lot better once she was home but he still had this urge to take care of her. It was a ridiculous notion since, if she ever found out that's what he was doing, she'd murder him. Right now she still thought that he was there because he didn't think that she would actually relax. It was best she continued to believe that he was there as a rule enforcer. However, that cover story was quickly losing steam.

"Marshall, I'm returning to work on Monday. Don't you think that allows me to make my own sandwiches?" She tried to get up again but Marshall could see her moving out of the corner of his eyes. He continued to spread mayo on her bread and hide the amused smile on his face.

"No, so sit down," he said, finishing her food and turning around. "You're on desk duty for at least a week, remember? No field work until the doctor says it's time."

"You hate me don't you?" she grumbled, crossing her arms like a two year old. Usually she could get her way with Marshall. She'd never had a problem telling him no in the past and just doing as she pleased before, but this wasn't before. This was now and Marshall got downright scary when she tried to do something she had been explicitly told not to. She pulled her pajama covered knees to her chest and then winced. Sometimes she forgot that certain movements still hurt and this was definitely one of them. Marshall just smirked at her, knowing exactly what she had done.

"Forgot that it hurt to sit like that, didn't you?" He set her sandwich and soda on the table in front of her.

"No," she answered stubbornly, keeping her knees close despite the dull ache that was starting to flow from her abdomen. Marshall sighed, sat down next to her, and then pulled her arms away from where they wrapped around her legs. Mary let her legs slide to the floor. Then, trying to annoy Marshall in anyway she could, lay down on the couch and plopped her feet into his lap. He gave her a look.

"What? I'm just 'taking it easy' like you told me to do," she said, daring him to say something different. Marshall knew better than that, though, and just shrugged at her before picking up the remote. Mary's annoyance returned, but she didn't move her feet. He may not be showing how exasperated he was with her, but that didn't mean she wasn't having an effect on him. Sooner or later she knew she'd crack that oh-so-composed exterior.

"What do you want to watch?" he asked her, taking a bite of his sandwich and browsing the channels. He hated television at six at night. There was rarely anything on. He flicked to the Food Network and, seeing that they were doing cake challenges, left the channel. Mary just stared at him.

"Cakes? Seriously?"

"What? Cake decorating is very manly. The word 'cake' has Viking origins," he commented, keeping the channel where it was.

"This is why I don't watch Jeopardy with you." Truth be told, she _had_ been watching Jeopardy with him the past few weeks and every time he demolished her. It made her realize just how incredibly smart her partner was. Even though he had been hanging around a lot lately, she found her looking forward to that half hour of TV where she tried desperately to answer the questions she knew before he did.

"You don't like watching Jeopardy with me because you lose. Now would you please be quiet? I'm trying to watch," he said, gesturing to the television. He glanced down at the untouched food on her plate. "And eat your dinner."

"Yes, Mom," she said to him, but took a bite of her food anyways. Her stomach hadn't really been up to eating much lately, though understandably. Her doctor said it was normal but she really needed to force herself to eat. She was glad that Marshall reminded her to eat because she knew she wouldn't remember.

"Just doing my part to help humanity. We all know what you're like when you're hungry."

She kicked him his leg but he barely seemed to notice. "Doofus."

"Jealous?"

"Hardly." She took another bite of her sandwich before she leaned back onto the couch, closed her eyes and relaxed. Only then did she notice that Marshall was gently rubbing her feet. She opened her eyes to comment but realized that he wasn't paying attention. He didn't even notice what he was doing. He had finished his food and all his concentration was on the screen but he wasn't really the type of person to keep still and, more often than not, he started unconsciously fiddling with the nearest object. This time it just so happened to be her feet.

She took a moment to look at him, _really_ look at him. He was sitting, slouching slightly into the comfort of her couch, his feet propped up on her table. He was still in his work clothes but the tie was off and the first few buttons of his shirt undone. His jacket was slung over the back of the couch and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He had removed his shoes but they were close, neatly placed next to the couch. His hair fell in his face a bit, the styling products he had placed in them that morning finally losing their hold. Marshall turned his head and caught her looking at him and threw her a curious glance.

"Just wondering when you got so comfortable being at my house," she told him. The comment wasn't malicious or sarcastic, just simply a statement.

He smiled at her and laughed softly. She couldn't hear it but she felt his body move under her legs. "Probably the night I started sleeping on your couch."

"You've been sleeping on my couch?" she asked him, shocked. She hadn't noticed the extra body in her house.

"You didn't think that it was odd that I was here before I left for work every morning?" For a Marshal, sometimes Mary was highly unobservant.

"I just figured it was you being paranoid. You come in freshly dressed and groomed every morning."

"I keep a suitcase in the back of my car," he told her. "I've been going home and showering after work and picking up spare clothes." He didn't miss the deranged look that she gave him. "It was easier than going home every night. You don't fall asleep until about midnight and I have work at nine in the morning. If you want, I'll stop doing it, but I just didn't think that you'd care."

"I don't, it's just…"

"What?"

"Well, sadly enough, you're more of a live-in boyfriend than Raph ever was."

Marshall was about to make a witty comment about how Raphael was her fiancé but stopped himself in time. She hadn't talked about it once in the weeks since Raph had left despite her mother trying to get an answer out of her daily. Marshall knew that she had to come to him but wished that she'd hurry up. Keeping his mouth shut and not try to pry a conversation out of her about Raph was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do.

"You're life is pretty pathetic. Did you know, that couples who live together before marriage are more likely to-"

"No, but I get the feeling I don't want to," Mary told him. She felt his fingers move to the arch of her foot, gently working out all the kinks in her muscles. It felt amazing, which was the only reason that she hadn't stopped him before. The fact that he hadn't noticed he was doing it yet was also a big reason she hadn't made him stop. "I didn't really want him to leave." Marshall looked at her surprised and then realized she was actually volunteering information. "To be honest, if he had just talked to me about the fact that he was upset about my job we could have worked something out rationally."

Marshall wasn't able to suppress the snort that came out when he tried to keep himself from laughing. He ended up bursting into laughter anyways, ignoring Mary until she kicked him again. "Oh, come on, Mary. You know you wouldn't have done anything of the sort."

"You could at least pretend that I'm an open minded individual who cares about what other people think, even if their ideas are stupid."

"But then you wouldn't like me," he said, grinning.

"Lucky for me because you seem to be the only person who likes _me_. Raph wanted nothing but to marry me and I couldn't even hold onto a guy who was actually in love with me," she complained, slouching further down the couch and resting her head on the arm.

"If he was making you pick your job or him, I question how much he actually loved you. Did you know that in the past four years-"

"Marshall!"

"I know; you don't care." They were both quiet a minute before Marshall spoke up again. "Don't get all mopey on me. It's not your style."

"I love that you're telling me what my own style is," she said sardonically.

"Someone has to. Besides, if you insist on being brutally honest with everyone else, someone has give you the same courtesy. We wouldn't want you to miss out on your own entitlement complex." He felt another swift kick to his side. "Don't worry too much about the situation with Raph. Deep down you know you weren't really in love with him anyways. I've never seen someone so hesitant about a wedding." He looked at her a moment and then shrugged, his mouth turning up slightly. "Of course, that could just be you and your irrational fear of commitment."

"Hey, it's a perfectly rational. Look at my shining examples."

He couldn't argue with her there. Mary's family tree wasn't exactly ripe with loving committed relationships and it had taken an obvious toll on Mary. The most significant relationship she had was with Marshall and that was just because he had learned how to handle her over the near four years that they had been together. He also wasn't related to her, trying to marry her, or get into her pants. He felt that those were all big reasons why their relationship worked so well.

"Hey, Marshall?"

"Yeah?"

"Jeopardy's on."

**ooOOoo**

Mary tapped her pen impatiently on her desk. She was so sick of looking at her computer screen that she almost had given into the urge to throw it across the room. The fact that she still wasn't allowed to lift anything heavier than her gun (and even then she wasn't allowed to shoot it unless absolutely necessary) was the only thing that prevented her from doing it. Her game of FreeCell taunted her from the monitor. She had been sitting at her desk three days and had finished every last bit of paperwork. There hadn't been a lot because Marshall had taken care of it knowing her aversion to pushing paper. Instead she sat, not knowing what to do with her day because even routine visits to her witnesses were deemed "too dangerous" by her doctor. She would have ignored him and done it anyways but her two innkeepers were enforcing it with rigor.

"Stan," she called out but was cut off before she could even begin to ask her question.

"No," he called from across the room, never even looking up from his own computer screen. It was about the third time in the past hour she had asked him to let her leave her desk and do field work. Everyone was starting to wish Stan would allow it, if for no other reason than she would stop harassing them.

"Did you know that the Samurai thought it disgraceful to die any other way than in battle? If they lost, they would often throw themselves on their own swords," Marshall informed her, his voice fairly monotone.

"Are you suggesting that I should throw myself onto my own sword?" she asked.

"It was a thought."

"Why don't I just kill you in battle? Then everyone's problem would be solved."

"I would come back and haunt you," Marshall told her. "Did you know that on average, a person thinks they see two ghosts a year?"

"But Marshall, you see a ghost every year. It's called your sex life," she snickered.

"Could be worse," Marshall said to her. "It could be your salary." He easily dodged the rubber band ball that she threw and heard it bounce off somewhere behind him. However he wasn't able to avoid the stack of post-it notes that follow. "Stan!"

"It's like I'm the parent over two kids," he mumbled, too low for them to hear. "Alright, Mary, you win. We have to interview a witness about a recent homicide. He's currently a cop for Albuquerque PD. He was headed over to the firing range on Holly Ave."

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" Marshall interjected. He knew he was being ridiculously over protective but somehow he couldn't stop himself. He accepted the glare that Mary shot at him. She didn't want him ruining her chances of escape.

"If you two continue to verbally and physically assault each other I'm going to dispense with the sword and just pull my gun and shoot you." The second the sentence was out of Stan's mouth before he realized what he had said. He looked up at Mary, mouth already open to apologize. Mary just held her hand up to stop him.

"Don't worry about it. I'm just excited to be getting out of this god damn office." She got up, started gathering her things, and headed towards the door. Marshall was headed the opposite way.

"Stan, I don't know that-"

Mary grabbed his tie as she walked by, dragging him the other way by the neck. She almost choked him in the process, but Marshall followed just like she knew he would. Granted, there wasn't much room for choice on his part, but had he wanted to avoid her he could have.

"C'mon, pumpkin," she said, suppressing a laugh, "we have to go show everyone that mommy and daddy are still a team." She looked like she was leading a puppy around. Marshall couldn't help but smile a little.

"Fine, I'm coming." He caught up to her and snatched his tie back. Mary shoved him, causing him to stagger a little. Her physical violence was returning to it previous potency. Marshall messed up her hair, something that he knew especially annoyed her. They managed to get through the door just before Stan's WITSEC manual hit it.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own In Plain Sight; I simply use the characters to further the enjoyment of all.

**ooOOoo**

She still wasn't allowed to drive. Marshall had been picking her up for work every day this week and she ached to get behind the wheel of her Probe again. She watched Marshall drive, the epitome of control, not even speeding. Sometimes it was infuriating to drive with the man.

"When we get there, don't harass my witness, don't have a 'mine is bigger than yours' contest, don't rub it in Deshowitz's face that we just got issued new Glocks, and don't shoot anyone or anything. In fact, don't even draw your gun," he added as an after thought.

"What if someone threatens us and drawing my gun is the only way to _save_ you?" Mary asked, grinning. They both knew that this was where, at the very least, Dershowitz's precinct all went to practice. There would be more than a few cops there.

"Let me die," he answered without even blinking.

"What if I need to protect myself?" Mary countered.

Marshall looked at her and smiled. Not in the jeering, sarcastic way that he usually did, but a genuine smile that eased across his face. "That's my job."

Mary eyed him, confusion and disbelief on her face. "Since when?"

Marshall shrugged at her, smile still on his face. "Since you got shot and kidnapped in the same year. Do you know what the odds of both those things happening are?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me," she mumbled.

"It's rare. We'll just leave it at that. You're obviously a magnet for dangerous situations that you can't get yourself out of so that leaves me to do it for you." The smirk returned as he added, "God, Mary, sometimes you can just be so selfish." If he hadn't been driving he would have been able to avoid her fist colliding with his arm. "Do you think it's wise to hit the driver?"

"It was worth the risk."

Marshall just chuckled as he pulled up to the firing range. They could hear the noise, even outdoors, though it only sounded like some dull thuds. The range was out back and partially underground. Gunshots weren't exactly good for business so sinking it into the ground was the compromise that the facility agreed to. The two Marshals had been there more than a few times in their careers, though not as often as Albuquerque PD. The WITSEC building had its own firing range. Marshall held open the door for Mary, because he knew how much it annoyed her, and she glared at him right on cue but walked through the door anyways.

"Chivalry crap," she muttered under her breath.

"I heard that."

"Good." They walked through the doors to the front reception area. A kid, no more than twenty, sat behind a bullet-proof window reading a gun magazine with headgear on. She didn't blame him. She hadn't even entered the actual range yet and it was already almost too loud to bear. Hearing this all day could damage your ears if you didn't cover them. She banged on the window to get his attention and flashed her Marshal badge when he looked up.

"What can I do for you, Marshal?" he asked.

"We're looking for Officer Joy," Marshall told him. He pressed a button, gestured to the headgear and then waved them through. Mary wished she had remembered to bring ear plugs. The ear gear that she was currently donning made her look like she had picked out the ugliest ear muffs that she could find. Add on the fact that it never got cold enough in New Mexico to ever need ear muffs just enhanced the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Just put them on," Marshall told her. She gave him a half-hearted glare before putting them on. She couldn't help but wonder when Marshall had become so attuned to her inner-monologue. They walked in and the noise hit her suddenly. Gunshots were going off all at once, the sound intensified now that she and Marshall were through the safety doors. They seemed to get louder and more frequent the longer they were in the room. Memories started resurfacing of gang members and shots and an intense, sudden pain that she hadn't really remembered until now. She started to wince slightly at every shot that went off. Not wanting to tip off Marshall that something could be wrong she tried to control her reaction. She had been around gunshots and shooting for all of her career. She didn't think that being shot should change her comfort with guns.

But it was.

Marshall noticed almost immediately. He didn't bother looking for their witness or even suggesting she should leave; they both knew she wouldn't do it anyways. He simply grabbed her, one hand grasping her upper arm, the other around her waist, and pulled her out the door. He pulled their headgear off as they walked out, depositing it on the counter. He dragged her outside, past the first line of cars, past their own car, until the gunshots were barely a dull thud in the background.

He didn't say anything to her, just let her stand there trying to control her breathing. He didn't touch her either, letting her go once they had gotten past where the noise bothered her. The flinching had stopped but he saw her clenching her fists so hard they were shaking slightly.

"Mare, calm down," he finally said when he thought she was going to explode.

"Jesus, you'd think that after being kidnapped a gun shot wound would be a blessing," she said. She laughed but, even with her back to him, Marshall knew that she was trying to keep it together.

"You didn't almost die when you were kidnapped. There was no hospital stay and certainly no white light," he answered her. "Did you know that most people have said that the light isn't actually white? Traditionally they don't even see a light, just themselves lying on the table."

"Marshall, _please_!"

He shut his mouth, forgetting that spouting random facts was his way of calming down, not hers. It just annoyed her, which was the other reason that he did it. Finally she took a deep breath and turned around to face him again. She smiled, though it was a little shakier than usual.

"Thanks for, you know." She gestured helplessly towards the range.

"I figured your usual 'suck it up and deal with it' method wasn't going to cut it this time," he said with a shrug.

"Yeah, but I never would have admitted it until I passed out." Even then they both knew she probably never would have admitted to anything.

"I told you that you needed protection."

Mary rolled her eyes and nudged him with her shoulder as they walked back towards the car.

"You want to hang out here while I question the witness?" he asked her, pulling out the car keys.

"God, I hope no one saw us come in. I'm going to look like such a pansy if anyone ever gets wind of this," she complained. She eyed the building warily, contemplating whether she could handle it or not.

"All their backs were turned and they couldn't hear a thing with the ear plugs and gunfire. I'm sure you'll be fine." He handed her the keys. "I shouldn't be more then twenty minutes." He walked towards the building but turned back to her just before she got into the car. "If you reprogram my stations to polka again, I'm going to leave you here and you can walk home."

She just smiled as she watched him disappear into the building. He never said anything about rap stations.

**ooOOoo**

"You have an appointment with a witness at his job," Eleanor informed the two Marshals as they walked through the door one morning.

"It isn't on my schedule," Mary complained. Eleanor sat down at her desk, clicked a few buttons and Mary heard the 'ding' come from her computer that a new appointment had been added to her calendar.

"Yes it is."

Mary was about to comment but just didn't have the energy. She had woken up late and hadn't had time to make her morning coffee before Marshall picked her up. She had a doctor appointment in two days where she would, hopefully, be at least deemed fit to drive but until then she had to suffer Marshall's schedule.

"Why do we need to see him?" she asked.

"Breach of WITSEC rules," Eleanor told her. Mary looked at the file that had been placed on her desk and saw that the witness had opened an art gallery. Considering he had been one of the biggest names in art in New York, it was like painting a red target on him.

"Here," Marshall said, handing her a cup of coffee. She eyed him warily. "You're being surly even for you."

She took the cup from his hand and drank the dark liquid. She could feel it's warmth as it made its way into her stomach. Already she could feel herself calming down and feeling better. She grabbed all of the papers she needed for the new witness and threw it into a duffel bag. Usually she wasn't one to carry around such things but sometimes there were just too many papers and not enough of Marshall to force to carry them all. Marshall was already by her desk and filled her already empty mug as she passed. They worked in a comfortable silence, preparing to leave, never getting in each other's way but still constantly crossing paths. Mary stuffed a copy of the contract in the bag and Marshall took two or three pens. Travel mugs were filled with coffee, which Marshall brewed, filling Mary's cup one last time. In minutes they were ready to leave and talk to their witness. Mary turned to grab her coat but Marshall caught her by the arm.

"Are you sure you're ready to handle a witness?" Marshall asked her. Even though it was minor field work, it would be the first witness she'd seen since she came back to work.

"Marshall, it's not like it takes a lot of effort. You sit them down, explain the rules and talk to them about relocation. It's the second most boring part of the job," she complained.

"What's the most boring part?"

"Filling out the paper work."

"The past three weeks was the first time you did your own paper work in almost four years."

"Yeah, it's so boring I make you do it," she said, walking out the front door. Marshall just rolled his eyes and followed her. About twenty minutes later, they arrived at the gallery of their witness and were ushered into a back conference room.

They explained the rules very clearly the same way that they had always explained it to their witnesses and why those rules had been breeched. He couldn't contact anyone from his past life, couldn't even write about them in his personal journal. There could be no remnants of his past life: no pictures, no personal items, he couldn't even work in the same job field.

"Do you understand why we have to relocate you?" Mary asked him. Jay, their witness, just looked at them, forlorn.

"What about my paintings?" he asked. Marshall and Mary just looked at each other before Marshall explained it to him.

"They'll have to be destroyed. No one can know that you were here, Jay, and those painting are a big red flag. You were one of the most famous new artists in New York and were recognized world wide. You can't own them; you would be too easily identified."

Horror, pain and sorrow permeated Jay's face. "I can't keep my paintings?"

"We can't even sell them. How are we going to explain new paintings by you? They have to be destroyed," Mary explained.

"So how can I manage painting without breaking the rules?" he asked. Again a look passed between the WITSEC agents. Their witness wasn't grasping the finer details of the program. Mary looked at him, a rare sympathy written on her features.

"Jay, you can't ever paint again. It would be too easy for someone to identify you," she told him softly.

Jay just stared off into space, horrified. He had been pulled into all of this only because he was trying to do the right thing. He had found out that one of his patrons was providing him with illegal money. What he didn't find out until later was that the patron hired an assassin to kill him. He had been put in the program immediately. Now his whole life, along with his composure, was coming apart at the seams. It wasn't uncommon to see a witness break down in front of them. Jay's shoulders shook and tears ran down his cheeks.

"Why am I getting punished for doing the right thing?"

"Sometimes life just sucks," Mary told him and Marshall kneed her under the table. After all this time he couldn't believe that she hadn't learned what not to say to a witness. That life sucked, when it was already painfully obvious that it did, was not something that you should say to them. He gave her a look when she glanced at him to scowl. They both turned back to their witness.

"I can't accept that," Jay finally managed to sob out.

"Then we can't allow you to be in the program," Marshall explained. Jay didn't stop shaking but soon he was laughing instead of sobbing. Again a look passed between the two Marshals but this time it was in confusion.

"Then what the hell is the point?" Jay asked, his laughter almost maniacal. His hands went to his jacket and slowly unbutton it. It took a minute for Mary and Marshall to understand exactly what it was that they were looking at. Marshall was the first to grasp it and grabbed Mary and shoved her behind him, protecting from the bomb that was strapped to their witness's chest.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Mary muttered seconds later. "How the hell did we miss that?"

He knew the question had been rhetorical but answered anyways. "Because we don't strip search witnesses we're coming to visit," Marshall explained. Once witnesses were in the program they weren't often searched. They hadn't had a reason to believe that Jay was dangerous, but they were being proven fatally wrong. No one expected the good ones to strap bombs to themselves.

"What's the point anymore? You end lives, do you realize that? You end people's lives," Jay screamed at them.

"No, Jay," Mary answered softly, "we give people the chance at a new life. We give them a fresh start. Most people would kill for an opportunity like that."

Jay just laughed. "Interesting choice of words."

"Jay, please," Marshall pleaded with him. "Try and think before you detonate that. You're about to kill two federal Marshals not to mention whoever else is in the building. There are four floors below this gallery, not to mention the receptionist at the front door. Don't take their choices away from them."

"Who cares? What will you do to me? I can't paint, can't call my family and friends ever again. I might as well be dead. I'm being punished for being good."

"We can't control that," Mary told him, trying to push past Marshall and approach Jay. "Why punish us?"

"Because you give the criminals what they want. They want me dead. Now I might as well be," Jay said, his hands shaking. Mary prayed that it wouldn't detonate, that they would all escape from this.

"At least let people evacuate," Marshall said. "Let some people go."

"Like your receptionist," Mary suggested. "Just let her leave."

Jay looked back and forth between the two Marshals, not knowing what they were trying to do. He knew that they were trying to trick him but they couldn't figure out why. "Ok," he finally spat out. "She can leave."

Mary called the girl in and when she walked in, almost fainted at the sight of Jay and his bomb. Mary tried to keep calm.

"Just go outside and tell everyone to get out of the building." Mary prayed she wouldn't have to tell the girl to call the police.

The receptionist nodded and hurried out the door.

She called the police on her cell and pulled the fire alarm. She may have been scared but she wasn't stupid. She knew the two people in there were cops of some sort and that they needed help.

Mary was glad that, at the very least, if Jay blew the bomb only Mary and Marshall would go down with him.

"Jay, you didn't have to go into the program," Marshall told him. "You can just opt out. No one is forcing you to be here."

"And if I don't? Then I get killed anyways for knowing what I do? I didn't want to find out. I was perfectly happy to live in blissful ignorance. I'd rather die how I want to die. I don't want to give them the satisfaction of killing me."

"Then don't," Mary interjected pushing past Marshall finally despite his attempts to protect her. "Man up and make a new life for yourself. You're still just giving them what they want. In fact, you're making it easier for them by taking out two Marshals while you're at it. Why don't you just buy them a couple of rounds at the bar while you're at it?"

"_Mary_," Marshall hissed at her. He didn't see why she felt the need to egg on every irate witness. The man was seconds away from blowing the entire building and Mary felt the need to poke at his already exposed wounds.

"Someone had to say it," she said to him. She turned back towards Jay, trying to think of ways to delay him. The girl had only been gone about ten minutes. The building wouldn't be cleared for at least another five. Stan would call Marshall's pager, which was always on vibrate, when he discovered what was happening and knew the building was clear but who knew how long that was?

"Say whatever you want," Jay said to her, his voice almost hysterical. "My choice isn't going to change."

He was losing it, both Mary and Marshall could tell. He wouldn't last much longer and they had to disarm him before he decided it was time to blow the building. She took a step closer to him.

"Just give me the detonator," Mary encouraged. "We'll help you, but you have to let us. I know it's difficult to adjust to your new surroundings, to starting a completely new life but we can know people who can help."

"It's really too late for that."

Mary saw him reaching for the explosives, ready to blow them all to pieces. She knew if she didn't do something now she would die and so would Marshall. She couldn't let any of that happen, especially to Marshall. She made a split second decision and rushed towards Jay.

"Mary, no!" Marshall screamed at her, trying to catch her before she attacked the man but she was too fast for him. It all happened in a second. When Marshall grabbed for her he caught nothing but air. Mary slammed into Jay before he was able to reach for the explosives, bringing him to the ground and knocking the wind out of him. She removed the detonator remote from his hand, handing it off to Marshall and cuffing their witness. Marshall was already on his cell with Stan, relaying the situation. Mary shoved the guy into the copy room, making sure he was locked up tight until SWAT could come in, detain him properly and officially disarm the bomb. Mary came back into the conference room where Marshall was pacing.

"He's all locked up, Mar-"

"What the hell were you thinking?" he screamed at her.

"He was about to blow us all into sushi," she screamed back. "I made a judgment call."

"A bad one!"

"What the hell are you talking about? You're alive aren't you?" she retorted.

"What if the bomb had gone off? What if you didn't get to him in time? What if you had-" He stopped himself short.

"What, Marshall? Spit it out. What if I had what? Saved us like I did?"

Marshall grabbed her upper arms, pulled her closer to him and shook her a little. "What if you had gotten hurt again?" he screamed, all the worry, pain and fear he had felt since she had been shot spilling out of him. "What if I had lost you? Don't you get it? I couldn't handle it if I had lost you!" All his self-control broke and he pulled her towards him and kissed her, harshly and fiercely.

Mary was stunned, to say the least. So much so she didn't really have any other reaction other than to let him kiss her in the most wonderful way she could ever remember being kissed. Kissing Raph had never felt like this. She felt warm and comfortable and loved. Despite its heated nature, it felt more genuine than anything else in her life. It felt like Marshall.

He pulled away when he heard the FBI enter and stalked off before Mary could ask him anything, leaving her to wonder what just happened.


	5. Chapter 5

I just wanted to throw out there that this story is also on Livejournal so if I run into problems again, just look up my user name (im_writing) and you should be able to view it there. I probably should have put that in chapter one but… oh well.

Disclaimer: I don't own In Plain Sight; I simply use its characters to further the enjoyment of all.

**ooOOoo**

"Mary, what the hell happened?" Stan asked as he walked into the room.

"Our witness had a bomb," Mary explained, dragging Jay out of the back room. The bomb squad came in after Stan and she pointed to the conference room where the detonator lay. They had the bomb disarmed and were carrying it out in seconds. Mary handed Jay off to the FBI once the bomb squad had finished with him. She wasn't sure what was going to happen to him from here but she knew that his chances in the WITSEC program had ended with the stunt that he had just pulled.

"How did you manage to disarm him?" Stan asked as he stopped next to her.

"I rushed him and stopped him from detonating." She received the same look from Stan as Marshall had given her: like she was absolutely crazy. The only difference was that Stan didn't yell at her. She was sure the lecture would start any second though, and Stan didn't disappoint.

"Are you crazy? That's completely against protocol."

"When have you ever known me to follow protocol, Stan? I mean, if you're going to ask something of me, at least make it practical. I could make pigs fly if you'd like?"

"Mary, you got lucky. You know and I know that you could have been hurt and you could've hurt Marshall too."

Mary sighed and slumped down in one of the conference room chairs. "I know, but he was going to detonate. I _knew_ it and I _knew_ that I wouldn't be able to talk him out of it. I had one chance and I took it because if I hadn't then we would have been left with no chances. I made a judgment call and I'd make it again. It wasn't wrong, Stan. Reckless, perhaps, risky, definitely but not wrong."

"How's Marshall handling it?"

The words reminded Mary of everything that had happened. Marshall had been so upset. She'd never seen him like that but if his vigil by her bed after she was shot was any indication, then chances were she just wasn't usually around when he got like that. Sometimes she forgot just how much Marshall cared. He was her partner and her best friend, her only friend as they had frequently reminded each other, and she didn't know why it hadn't occurred to her sooner.

"What was he liked when I was hurt? What did he do when I was missing?"

"He acted like Marshall," Stan responded. "Well, when you were missing he managed to hold it together pretty well but you could tell it was taking a lot of effort. I think the fact that he had to find you was the only thing that kept him on task."

"And when I was shot," Mary asked. Stan was silent for a moment, watching his agent. She was staring off into space, probably trying to sort out all the thoughts in her head. He noticed that Mary did that a lot and almost always after a situation became intense like it had this morning.

"He completely broke down. I don't know what would have happened if he had lost you, Mary, but he wouldn't have come out of it the same person. There's a high likelihood that he would have left the Marshal Service altogether."

"Shit," she muttered.

"What's going on?"

"I wish that I knew. Did you see where Marshall ran off to?" she asked. Stan just shrugged.

"I think the FBI got a hold of him to question him but he ran out of here pretty fast. He said that he needed the afternoon and after what you guys just went through I wasn't going to question it. You know you're both going to have to talk to councilors," he warned her.

"Again?" she complained. "Christ, I hate talking to shrinks."

"It shouldn't take long," Stan assured her. "How are you feeling? Tackling that guy was probably not something that was exactly doctor recommended."

"I feel fine. I think you were all being a little too over protective anyways. I didn't have any pain when I disabled the witness."

"That might have been more the adrenaline rush than anything else," Stan warned her. "I want you to go to the doctor. Take Marshall. It'll make him feel better to go with you."

Mary didn't think that was the case, but she wasn't going to say that to Stan. It would cause too many questions and make her explain things that she wasn't sure that she could yet. She picked up her phone to call Marshall but didn't have much hope that he'd pick up. Imagine her surprise when on the fifth ring, just before voicemail would kick in, she heard "Marshall Mann" on the other end.

"Hey, Marshall, Stan is making me see my doctor. He told me to make you take me," she informed him, picking up her things and heading out the door. Maybe if she could get to him before he hung up then she could convince him to drive her.

"I don't know if I can take you," he answered after a moment of hesitation.

"You have to. We both know that if you don't come then I'm going to have to explain everything to you later and it's SUCH a pain in the ass to do that." The elevator light dropped slowly, floor by floor. She tapped her foot in impatience, wishing that it would descend faster.

"I'm sure you'll be able to manage relaying the message to me." His voice was monotone, trying to hide all the emotions that he was feeling. He leaned against his car and looked up at the building he knew she was still in.

"I can't drive, remember? You were my ride here and my mother is in her AA meeting and Brandi is out with Peter. You have to take me. I'll be down in about two minutes," she told him and then hung up. Marshall closed his phone and leaned his head against the car. He had kissed Mary, _kissed_ her. He didn't even know what he had been thinking but there she was again, in danger, and he hadn't been able to protect her. She could have gotten hurt all over again and it would have been his fault. He had never dealt well with Mary being in trouble and watching her tackle Jay with all those explosives. He shook his head, trying to dispel the thought. Afterwards he had just been so relieved that she was alright he lost all control that he had. Mary was a permanent structure in his life and losing her didn't seem to be an option. His complete emotional break downs when she was in danger were a clear indication of that.

Sometimes he wondered if he was really that smart at all. Why had it taken him so many years to figure out how much he had actually loved having her around, loved her being in his life, loved her personality despite how obtuse it was, loved... her.

He saw her walking out of the building and heading straight for him. He couldn't read her expression but he could tell from here that she was determined to catch him. He had a sinking feeling that she was going to want to know what he had been thinking when he had decided to kiss her. Unfortunately, Marshall didn't really have an answer. At least, he didn't have an answer he would be willing to tell her or even admit to himself. All of his thoughts and his actions seemed to be leading to one conclusion but the idea seemed absurd. When she reached him and hit him in the arm, he smiled and finally figured it out.

Marshall Mann was in love with his partner.

**ooOOoo**

Marshall hung out in the waiting room while Mary went in to see her doctor. He tried sorting out all his thoughts but he kept coming back to the same inevitable conclusion: he loved Mary. It had snuck up on him. After all, Mary wasn't someone that instantly caused people to love her but that was part of the reason he had liked working with her so much. Mary didn't take anyone's crap and she wasn't subtle about it either. He liked not having to wade through politics and competition. There was neither of those things with Mary. She hit him and teased him and insulted him and somehow, he still wasn't sure how, that had completely endeared her to him.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice Mary emerge until she kicked his boots. "Come on, Marshall, time to go."

He looked up and saw her standing over him, hands in her back pockets. "What did the doctor say?"

"That I'm just picture perfect. I can even start driving again and doing field work." She would never admit it but Marshall knew that she was excited. If it wasn't Mary he would almost expect her to be jumping up and down in excitement. The thought was an amusing one and he couldn't hide the smile it caused.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"Nothing," he answered, shaking his head. He stood up and followed her out the door. When he took his keys out she snatched them out of his hands. "Hey!"

"I can drive now and you better be damn sure that I'm going to. Driving with you is a little maddening."

"But it's my car."

"Yeah, I don't really seem to care."

Marshall didn't argue because it wasn't worth it. She hadn't been behind the wheel of a car for months and when she was determined to do something there just wasn't a point in challenging that. It was a waste of energy. They climbed into the car and Mary pulled out, heading away from WITSEC.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Home," she answered like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"Whose home? Because mine is in the opposite direction."

"Mine. Why would I go to your house? It's not like you've been there recently," she jeered. There was no argument. His house was starting to collect dust he had seen so little of it lately.

"Maybe I want to go to my own house," he countered. It was more that he didn't want to go back to Mary's house where it would just be Mary and him… alone. Mary looked over at him, eyebrow raised.

"What's going on with you?"

"Nothing, your house is fine. There isn't any food at mine anyways." He leaned back in the seat an let her drive but closed his eyes. He didn't want to give her the indication that he wanted to talk. When they finally got to her house she got out, slamming the door to his car. He followed her with a groan, knowing that she was pissed off and that was just going to make the situation worse.

**ooOOoo**

Mary stalked into the house, slamming things as she went. Something was going on with Marshall, that much was obvious, and she never thought that it would be so frustrating to get an answer out of him. Usually it was easy to pry information out of him. Now she couldn't even get him to look at her straight. She walked into the kitchen and, hearing Marshall behind her, grabbed two beers out of the fridge. She flipped off the tops, handed one to Marshall and leaned against the counter, staring at him poignantly.

"What?"

"I was hoping that you could tell me that," she told him. "You've been acting weird every since I was hospitalized. Don't think that I didn't notice your little 'let's protect Mary' bullshit. You haven't been hanging around here for weeks because you think I'm going to do something to hurt myself. You're doing it because you have this perverse idea that someone needs to take care of me."

She hadn't noticed it at first and, by the time she had, she didn't really know what to do with the information. Marshall knew her better than anyone so he had to know that being her knight in shining armor was only going to anger her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, taking a sip of his drink and cursing himself. He thought that he had been more subtle than that but he should have known that she would catch on. Of all the things that Mary was, stupid wasn't one of them. He would have to be more careful in the future. That meant no more staying at her house or telling her she couldn't do anything or even coming to every interview with her. She was healed or physically healed at least. He would have to go back to being just Marshall, best friend and partner. He wasn't sure he really wanted to.

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. Today's events haven't exactly been normal, Marshall. Any of the events." She took a sip from her beer and looked at him expectantly but Marshall wasn't caving. He would roll over in his grave before he admitted what was happening.

"I agree. It's not everyday that we have someone trying to kill us with a bomb. We had someone kill _themselves_ with a bomb but he gave us more than enough time to get away," he mused conversationally.

"Not what I was referring to," she said exasperated. "Damn it, Marshall, why the hell did you kiss me?"

Marshall almost dropped his drink. He hadn't really expected her to ask him about it. Mary, while she was confrontational, was only so about certain things. He didn't think this would be one of them but he had been wrong. He should have known that she would want to know the motives behind something so out of the ordinary.

"I was stressed out. It's been a rough four months. You were asleep for a lot of it," Marshall told her. She didn't buy it.

"What a steaming pile of crap. Are you going to give me the real answer now?" They stared each other down, both just as stubborn as the other. Marshall saw her cross her arms over her chest. He almost expected her to tap her toe in impatience. She had the usual pissed off glare on her face and was leaning against the counter like she always did when she thought that she might be standing awhile. His eyes softened slightly as he thought about it. Mary noticed and it fell into place for her just like it had for Marshall.

"Christ, Marshall. You're in love with me," Mary whispered.

This time Marshall did drop his drink, beer and glass going everywhere. They both jumped at the sudden noise and Mary cursed fluently. She stalked over to the kitchen pantry and grabbed a broom and dust pan. Marshall looked at her curiously.

"You own cleaning supplies?"

"Shut up," she told him as she angrily swept up the glass. "There's a mop in there too. Why don't you get it and start sopping up this mess you made."

"I don't think a mop is going to take care of that," he told her honestly. She didn't answer, just shoved the broom into his hands and walked over to the closet and pulled out the mop. She practically attacked the floor with it, trying to mop away all the messes of her life. Marshall swept up all the glass into the dust pan and emptied it into the trash. Mary squeezed the last of the beer out of the mop and into the sink.

"You missed a piece," she said and bent down to get the sliver of glass.

"Mary, don't-" but it was too late.

"God damn it!" she yelled, blood dripping onto the tile floor. She sucked slightly on her cut and tasted metallic. The cut was deep and it stung. She couldn't believe that something else had happened, as if her day hadn't been stressful enough. Marshall left the room, coming back a few minutes later with a first aid kit.

"Don't put your mouth on it. The human mouth has an endless amount of bacteria that can infect cuts," he told her, setting the bandages on the counter.

"I'll suck on it if I want to," she mumbled, her finger still in her mouth. Marshall grabbed her hand, threw on the water and stuck her hand under it, washing away the blood. He took it out and poured some peroxide on it then dried it with a towel and bandaged it up.

"There, all better," he told her, letting her have her hand back. Usually she would make some sexual comment about him being rough but somehow it was different now. He might not take it in his usually laid back demeanor: an eye roll and a smirk. Somehow teasing him like that now, after what she knew, seemed a little cruel. She took the mop and broom, shoved it in the closet and slammed the pantry door.

"Mary, are you going to talk to me or continue to destroy things?" he asked her, standing by her sink with his hands on his hips. It was a stupid question. They both knew that of all the things Mary was going to do, talking to her partner about her emotions was probably pretty low down on the list.

"I like destroying things." She didn't look at him.

"Believe me, I know. You're still avoiding question."

She spun around and glared at him. "What the hell do you expect me to say? 'Wow, Marshall, I'm so glad you've fallen for me because now I can confess my undying love for you.'"

"You could probably leave out the 'undying' part." She chucked a pillow at him and he ducked. "What do you want _me_ to say? It's not like I sat there and said 'Hmm, I think I'll complicate my life exponentially and fall in love with my partner today.' It just happened."

"Oh, well, that makes it all better then!" She put her face in her hands and groaned in frustration before looking up again, the fury slight more contained than it was a second ago. "How long have you been hiding this little bombshell of a secret?"

Marshall shrugged, not knowing what to tell her. He figured the truth was probably the best way. "About four hours."

The answer took her by surprise. "What?"

"Kissing you isn't exactly a normal reaction. The more I thought about it, the more obvious it became. Actually, it's not uncommon for people to have epiphanies after an extreme situation."

"And you couldn't figure out world peace with your epiphany? I feel that would be much more suited to your personality," she griped.

"I'll keep that in mind next time."

Mary leaned her elbows on the island in her kitchen and put her head in her hands. It seemed her life was just one stressful situation after another and this was the most stressful of all. She would take a bomb any day over all the emotional drama that was now happening with Marshall. At least she knew how to handle a bomb; her feelings and emotions concerning Marshall, less so. She started to get angry at him for everything. She was angry that he had been taking care of her when she didn't need it, angry that he had been so protective, angry that he burdened her with this new revelation and angry that he had decided to do it now, as if she didn't already have enough on her plate.

"Mary-"

"No," she interrupted, holding her hand up to stop him. She still didn't look at him and allowed her hair to fall over her face. "Just go, please. I just need you to leave."

He was going to protest but thought better of it. "Alright, I'll go. Do you need anything before I leave?" He sighed when he realized how that probably sounded to her: Marshall the protector to the rescue! "Never mind. If you need something I'm sure you'd rather go get it yourself." He walked out the door leaving Mary to her thoughts.

The more that Mary thought about it, the angrier she became. Marshall was her friend and her partner but that was it. At least, that was the way that it usually worked. He wasn't allowed to go and change the rules on her. She picked up a plastic cup that sat on the counter and threw it across the room.

'Damn you, Marshall,' she thought as she walked away. 'Damn you.'


	6. Chapter 6

This is going to be the last major chapter. I'll have a short epilogue after it but it will be *very* short. I don't even think it's a full two pages in word.

Disclaimer: I don't own In Plain Sight; I simply use the characters to further the enjoyment of all.

**ooOOoo**

When Mary got to work the next morning, Marshall was no where to be seen. She shot Stan a look and he just shrugged.

"He said he needed a day."

Mary wasn't completely surprised, but she knew that what Marshall had told Stan and his real reasons behind staying home were two conflicting things.

Marshall usually wasn't one to avoid things and Mary knew that's probably what he was doing. After all, he had already tried confronting the elephant in the room head on and it hadn't gotten him anywhere. She figured that, for today, it was probably for the best. That is until the day dragged by and there was no Marshall to provide her with any entertainment. She took for granted how often she spoke to him or asked for his advice or just did something childish like shoot rubber bands at him. That day was the first day that she had ever willingly gone home on time. Usually Stan had to kick her out of the office.

Things didn't get much better when he returned the following day. They didn't talk like they usually did. Suddenly all the things she teased him about became awkward and inappropriate. They were silent a lot of the day, talking only when their jobs required it of them. She fiddled with her pen, trying to figure out a way to get him to be Marshall again.

"You want to go to lunch?" she asked him. It was only 11:30 but maybe a meal would do them both good and they could go back to being best friends again.

"Not hungry," he said. He wrote something in the file on his desk before turning back to his screen.

"You're a guy. Aren't you always hungry? Or would a burger mess up that trim figure of yours?" she jibed

"I didn't know that you kept such close tabs on my figure," he retorted.

It was something the old Marshall would say, but somehow it didn't feel the same. Their playful flirting wasn't as playful as it used to be. Now every time he said something to her she wondered if he was serious. Getting angry all over again, she threw her pen hitting him in the head.

"What was that for?"

"Because you deserved it," she answered and walked out.

It went on like that for a week or two: an uncomfortable truce. Marshall never said anything about that day to her and Mary didn't ask. It didn't help the underlying tension. Mary was watching her only friendship fall apart around her and wasn't sure if there was anything she could do to stop it.

Marshall had tried correcting it, but nothing was ever easy with Mary. Not that he would have it any other way, but it was times like this that it was especially frustrating. He tried to keep their banter light like it had always been, but he noticed the difference. He wished that she had never figured it out, that she still thought them partners and friends, but the past couldn't be changed and he had to work with what he had. After a few days of trying to tease her he just gave up, staying quiet through their long days. Seeing witnesses was a relief because it gave them something to do that didn't require talking to each other. There was someone to fill the silences.

Marshall had finally decided that it had been going on long enough and headed over to Mary's. She had gone home earlier than him, her cases light since her shooting, and so it was late before he finally headed toward her house. Jinx answered the door, mug of tea in her hand.

"Hello, Marshall. Mary is in her room asleep." She stepped aside to let him in.

"I'll just go on in."

Jinx nodded, not thinking anything of it. Marshall had been almost a permanent fixture in their home lately. When Mary needed help walking, she was too heavy for Jinx or Brandi to support by themselves and the halls were too narrow for three of them to walk abreast. Marshall had helped her around those first few weeks.

When he got near her door he heard her scream. It was so short and muffled he barely realized what had happened. He knocked hard, wondering what was wrong. Mary didn't usually scream and it concerned him that she had.

"Mare? Is everything ok?" He heard some frantic moving and then her voice.

"What the hell are you lurking outside my door for, Marshall?"

"It was easier than peeking through your window," he answered. Mary smiled and tried not to laugh. "Are you going to let me in or am I going to have to serenade you out here."

"Aren't you supposed to do that outside my window?"

"Door's easier. Can I please come in?"

She sighed and answered, "Fine."

He opened the door to see her sitting up in bed in a dark room. He didn't know what had happened, but she was still shaking from it. He slipped his shoes off and sat down across from her on her bed.

"What happened?" He had asked her in that tone of voice that said he was expecting an answer. Mary hated that voice but seemed to feel herself compelled to answer anyways.

"I fell asleep," she answered. Of course that wasn't the only thing. She had dreamt. It was the same dream she'd had since she had gotten out of the hospital and the experience of Jay pulling a bomb on them caused it to increase tenfold in frequency and intensity. Every night she was shot trying to protect someone. She had never quite been able to grasp _who_ she was trying to protect, but it was someone she cared for and every time she failed. Every time first she was shot and then she watched the other person get shot. Every night she woke up with a scream, albeit a short muffled scream that her mother and sister couldn't hear. Even Marshall hadn't noticed when he had been sleeping on the couch.

"Are you planning to tell me the rest or are we just going to sit here for a while until I force it out of you?" Though his words were slightly humorous his tone was serious. "What's scared you so much that you're shaking?"

"I had a dream," she finally told him. She didn't need to tell him it was bad. He could tell from just the way that she neglected to tell him and was still shaking a full five minutes after it happened.

"You want me to stay?"

"I don't want you getting any ideas," she said, trying to force the sarcasm into her voice, but Marshall knew better.

"Mary, just because you know how I feel doesn't mean anything has really changed. I'm still going to bombard you with useless information, I'm still going to tease you, and I'm still going to flirt with you. I'm still your friend and partner."

"Wow, I don't think you realize how ridiculously sappy you just sounded."

"Now there's the Mary we all know and love. Always ready to point out people's flaws in their moment of vulnerability," he said with a smile. Her shaking had subsided, but Marshall knew that she wasn't alright yet. "Want me to stay and chase away the monsters under your bed?"

"Please, you would run away screaming from the monsters under my bed. I would be the one who had to take out my Glock and shoot them." They both lay back on the bed. Marshall leaned into her pillows and put his hands behind his head.

"You know, parents created the myth of closet monsters to-"

"Marshall, how am I supposed to sleep with you talking?" Mary asked, already half asleep.

"Sorry."

**ooOOoo**

Mary couldn't help but smile the next morning when she saw Marshall's car parked outside. He had been gone when she woke up this morning but she hadn't had the dream again. When she came up in the elevator, he wasn't sitting at his desk and she headed to Stan's office to see if he knew where Marshall had taken off to. She stopped when she heard Marshall's voice drifting out of Stan's office. The blinds were drawn, preventing her from seeing them and vise versa.

"I just can't stay. I thought that I'd tell you now," Marshall said.

"Are you sure? We're really going to miss you," Stan answered. Mary panicked. Was Marshall leaving the Marshal Service just because of her? She crept closer, hoping to hear more from the pair.

"I'm sure. After everything that's happened there's just going to be too much tension and it'll affect everyone. I'm going to the bigger person and take myself out of the equation."

"If you're sure then I can't stop you, but I want you to know that no one thinks you were at fault in this situation," Stan told him sternly.

"I know," Marshall answered. Mary heard him walking and raced back to the door, hoping to make it look like she had just walked in. Marshall came out, saw her and smiled. "Morning, Mary."

"Hey, Marshall." She just walked past him, annoyed. He was leaving the Marshal Service for the stupidest reasons. A little unrequited love was no reason to quit something that you had done most of your adult life. She thought him a coward for doing it and her aggravation showed.

Marshall noticed it immediately. He ignored it for as long as he could but Mary, in her typical fashion, made that as difficult as possible. She slammed drawers, huffed a lot and even seemed to be typing with extra force. Marshall slammed his pen down.

"What? What has gotten you so mad at me?" he asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm fine." She slammed a file cabinet.

"I didn't know that you destroyed so much office furniture when you were fine," he muttered.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," she countered.

"That's unlikely. I know that you're going to act like a five year old unless I sit here and coax it out of you," he commented dryly.

"You two need to head over to Dershowitz precinct and pick up a witness. He got himself into some trouble," Stan said as he came out of his office, picking up the file Eleanor held out to him.

"Thank God," Marshall muttered, standing up. Stan looked at his Marshals and noticed that both of them were a bit surly. He looked over at Eleanor in question.

"Mary is mad at Marshall for some unknown reason and is taking it out on the rest of us." Eleanor said it like she was reciting a laundry list. "I didn't remember sending a memo out about take your kids to work day, but apparently Marshall has brought his anyways."

"As long as everything is normal. Hurry up you two."

Mary glared at him but grabbed her jacket anyways. "I'm driving," she told Marshall.

"I'd rather not die today," Marshall told her as he followed her out. His protests didn't matter, not that he thought they would. She drove, taking the streets of Albuquerque at an unprecedented pace. Marshall held tightly to the handle above the window, bracing himself against the dashboard when necessary. When Mary took another sharp left, Marshall finally complained. "Could you please slow down, at least a little? Your probability of an accident increases by about thirty percent when you drive like this."

"Stop being such a wimp. My driving is fine." As if trying to prove her point, she pressed a little harder on the accelerator.

"Will you just tell me what you're so irate about?" he asked her.

"Who the hell uses words like 'irate'? Why can't you speak like you're from this century?" Another sharp right.

"I'm secretly trying to commit suicide and spend hours at night thinking up things that will annoy you so that you'll drive like a maniac and kill me in a car crash."

"At least I won't have to deal with it when you leave."

'Ah, _there_ it is,' he thought. "Mary, pull over."

"No."

"Mary, pull _over_," he yelled at her. She cut across two lanes of traffic and pulled into a Denny's parking lot. They both sat there, Mary tightly gripping the steering wheel and Marshall the window handle, until Marshall finally dragged up enough composure to talk to her. "Where did you hear that I was leaving?"

"I overheard you telling Stan this morning in his office."

"Mary…" He shook his head. "You are the nosiest, most stubborn and impulsive woman I have ever met in my entire life."

"You're the most infuriating, nerdy man that I've ever known."

"I'm not leaving the Marshal Service, Mare. I'm not going anywhere like I've told you only about a hundred times."

"But this morning with Stan-"

"Had nothing to do with work," Marshall informed her. "I have to leave our ballroom dancing class because another student and I had some problems and leaving was just easier than the tension it causes."

"…you're in a ballroom dancing class? God, it's a good thing I wear the pants in our relationship or we would have real problems."

"It's a good thing that I don't or we'd never get anywhere alive. Give me the keys." He held out his hand for the small pieces of metal and plastic.

"I'm not letting you drive," Mary insisted.

"You just nearly killed us… four times," he insisted.

"That's because I was angry."

"You don't drive any better when you're placated." He reached for the keys, grabbing them before she could stop him. She tried to take them back but the confines of the car prevented her from it. Marshall held them out the open window and easily out of her reach. She leaned across him, attempting to reclaim the small silver objects but Marshall's arms were just too long. Finally she gave up, slumping back in her seat.

"Fine, you can drive but I reserve the right to criticize you every step along the way," she warned him.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He got out of the car and opened her door. She just sat there and glared, continuing to be stubborn before finally getting out and getting in the passenger side. He eased out onto the road at a much slower pace than Mary had executed.

After a long silence, Mary finally spoke up. "You know you're not actually allowed to leave, right?"

"Of course not," he said, stopping at a red light but keeping his eyes on the road. "It's been long established that I'm the only one who can stand being partnered with you."

"I know you joke when you say it but I don't think you realize how right you are."

This time Marshall did chance a look her way. "Mary, you're not _actually_ that bad. I just tease you because you take it so well. I hope you never really think that I'm serious."

"Do you know how many partners I had before you?" she asked him. Marshall just shook his head. "Four. In three years. I only spent more than a year with one of them and even that was hard to do. I don't know what makes you stick around, Marshall, but I'm glad that you do."

"Stan slips me cookies when you're not looking." He smiled at her, seeing her laugh slightly at his joke. "Statistically, people don't look past their first impressions. It's very hard to get out from under a bad first impression and, as much as I love your gruff demeanor, it's very off-putting when you first meet people. Luckily for you I'm just one of those people who try really hard to figure out what a person is really like. I have to say, I was a little disappointed when I found out that under your hard exterior you're just a big softie."

"I'm not a softie," she protested. "I could kick your ass any day of the week."

"True, but you'd also do anything to protect me."

"Damn," she muttered, "I am a softie. Don't tell anyone, alright?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he promised.

**ooOOoo**

Mary and Marshall didn't notice the changes over the next few weeks but everyone else did. Stan would nudge Eleanor when he saw Marshall looking at Mary when he thought no one was watching. Eleanor would smile softly when she saw Mary do something to help Marshall like his copies or grab him a cup of coffee when he looked especially tired. There was even a time when Marshall was having a difficult time with a witness and Mary gave him a squeeze of reassurance on the shoulder. They still bickered but it was different. There was more flirting involved and less sarcastic commentary. Marshall still bombarded her with useless information and Mary still complained about it, but both of them wore smiles when this happened. Even Dershowitz noticed the difference between the two.

"What's going on between you and Marshall?" he asked one day when they had shown up to glean information off of him. As usually, he had told them nothing until they would give him some information and as usual it didn't work. Mary looked at him like he was crazy.

"What are you talking about?"

Dershowitz wondered if she was joking and then realized suddenly that she wasn't. She really didn't notice that her relationship with Marshall had taken on a new air. "Never mind; you'll figure it out eventually."

After a particularly long day, Marshall was out on the balcony, laying on one of the lounges, eyes closed. They had pulled an all-nighter and it still didn't look like they would be able to head home anytime soon. Mary came out and sat on him, facing the view of the city. Marshall didn't open his eyes when he spoke.

"There are at least three other chairs around. Why is it again that you decided to sit there?"

"Because it's way more comfy, duh!" she said in her best mock-valley girl voice. She wiggled a bit as if to prove her point.

"I hate you," he informed her.

"No you don't; you love me," she shot back.

"I was speaking metaphorically."

Before she could blink, Marshall had grabbed her around her waist and turned to the side, pinning her on the small chaise lounge. She struggled to get up but he had pinned her arms down when he grabbed her, making escape difficult.

"Let me go, Doofus!"

"But then I can't cuddle with you," he said, his voice purposely overly romantic. He made loud smooching noises at her, puckering his lips in a ridiculous fashion. Mary fought not to smile at his antics. She had to remember to remain mad. Or at least pretend that she was mad. They both knew otherwise.

"You better put those lips away before something happens to them," she threatened him. His only response was laughter. This time she couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from lifting.

"Like what?"

She leaned forward and kissed him. She had only meant it to be a joke, to kiss him quickly just to be a jerk but she found that, once she had actually kissed him, she didn't want it to be quick. She let her lips linger, let herself enjoy everything that was quintessentially Marshall.

To say Marshall was shocked would have been an understatement but he wasn't stupid enough to say anything. He continued to kiss her for as long as she would let him, which ended up being a lot longer than he ever expected. Even his fantasy Mary didn't let him kiss her this long. Mary finally pulled away but didn't divert her eyes. Marshall's arms had relaxed and she could have easily pulled away but found she didn't want to. She just looked at Marshall and the lazy grin on his face. She felt her own goofy expression form on her face before being replaced quickly by a shocked one.

"Damn it," she muttered.

"What's wrong?"

"I wasn't expecting to love you back."

Marshall just smiled and then laughed in pleasure. It seemed it was a day full of nothing but surprises. "It was inevitable." He didn't actually think it was but he liked to make Mary think that he had expected it all along.

"You're such a bad liar," she told him. "Keep that in mind."

"For what?"

"The future, obviously. If we're going to start doing this whole ridiculous dating thing, you should be aware of the fact that you suck at lying."

He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "We're going to start dating?"

"Isn't that what people normally do in this situation? I mean, I can't say I've had a whole lot of experience in this field but I'm pretty sure that's what usually happens."

"You've never exactly fallen on the normal side of the scale, Mare."

"Are you telling me you don't _want_ to date me?" She said it in jest, poking him as she spoke.

"No, I'm just a little surprised. You're not exactly a big fan of commitment, which is interesting since, statistically, men are afraid of commitment."

"To be honest, dating wouldn't have been my first choice but we're going to have to give Stan some sort of excuse as to why we're making out on the balcony." She glanced to the window behind Marshall. He rolled over and saw Stan there smiling before he walked away.

"Hmm," Marshall commented, turning back towards Mary. "That's going to be an interesting conversation."

"Think there's any way to avoid it?"

"I'm fairly certain we're going to have to face him eventually. However…" He looked at her, mischievous look on his face. "I can think of a way to at least delay it." He leaned towards her and kissed her again.

"Christ, Marshall, we've only been dating for two minutes and you're already a horny bastard."

"I've been pining for awhile now."

"Doofus," but she didn't object when he kissed her once again.


	7. Epilogue

Last chapter! Hope everyone enjoyed it (even with the funkiness going on w/FFN).

Disclaimer: I don't own In Plain Sight; I simply use the characters to further the enjoyment of all.

**ooOOoo**

"Mary? What are you doing out here?" Marshall asked, walking out onto her porch. It was a cool night, especially for Albuquerque, but not uncomfortable. Mary stood on the porch, just staring off into space.

"Just thinking," she told him, not turning to look at him. Marshall knew that tone and wondered if she had remembered. He had but he thought it best not to remind her. To be honest, he had been thinking up ways all day to distract her.

"Are you going to tell me about what or am I going to have to guess?"

Mary just smiled. His ability to read her hadn't diminished at all since they had started dating. If anything, he had become even more perceptive. "It's been a year," she volunteered.

"I wasn't sure if you remembered."

"Getting shot isn't something you're likely to forget. Even if I hadn't, your painfully obvious attempts to distract me would have given it away." She turned towards him and smiled before returning her gaze to the empty street. Marshall resisted the urge to cringe.

"That bad huh?"

"You're typically not a morning sex type of guy."

"I thought that might have given it away." He came and stood next to her, looking out into the same empty space. "Are you doing alright?"

"I'm fine. Just a lot of bad memories that like to haunt me every now and again."

"So make some good ones," he suggested.

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Marry me," he proposed. Mary laughed until she realized he wasn't kidding.

"Are you crazy?"

"I'm dating you, aren't I?" He barely avoided her attempts to hit him. "I'm already dating you; I practically live with you," he shrugged, "marriage is just the next logical step."

"Damn it, you are serious."

"I know; I can't believe it either."

"Aren't you supposed to get on your knee and present me with a ring?"

He was silent for a good ten seconds. "Do you really _want_ that?"

"I'd be ok with a ring," she let on. Imagine her surprise when Marshall took a little black box out of his pocket and handed it to her. "You already have a ring!?"

"Are you going to open the box or just stand there and look at me incredulously?"

She plucked the box from his hand, pinching the corners of the small object. Inside there was a silver band with a square diamond on it. It was a large diamond but not an ostentatious one. She plucked it from its casing and saw her name engraved on the inside. Well, almost her name. It said 'Mary Mann.'

"I am _so_ not taking your name," she warned.

"I didn't think you would. I just thought it would be nice to have a little reminder on the inside of the ring. Somewhere discreet where only you and I will ever see it."

It was the second time that day she realized how well he knew her. "I'm not wearing a dress."

"Of course not."

--Fin.


End file.
